


50 Wordless Ways To Say "I Love You"

by secretsidgenowriter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Cooking, Dad Jokes, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, Nightmares, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 14:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 10,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20311342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsidgenowriter/pseuds/secretsidgenowriter
Summary: 50 ways to say "I love you" without actually saying "I love you."





	1. Holding their hands when they are shaking.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this ](https://50-item-writing-prompts.tumblr.com/post/180600714495/50-wordless-ways-to-say-i-love-you-holding-their) prompt. 
> 
> All chapters are unrelated and vary in length.

There are still a few police cars on the scene when Geno stops his own car and hops out. There’s an ambulance with its lights on but the stretcher inside is empty and the paramedics are standing around talking to each other, probably called out of protocol instead of necessity.

Geno hurries up the sidewalk, pushing past nosy onlookers until he gets to the actual accident. There’s a dark green sedan with his front end smashed up behind Sid’s SUV. The bumper is on the ground and there’s a crack in the back windshield. It’s a lot of damage but it could have been worse. In a busy intersection like this, it could have been so much worse.

Near the front of the SUV Sid is talking to one of the officers. He has one arm crossed over his chest and he’s talking with the other. He looks okay. Nothing’s broken. There’s not even a scratch on his face but Geno needs proof. He needs to physically touch him, all of him, to make sure there’s nothing out of place.

Sid nods then shakes the cop’s hand. When they step away Geno watches Sid take a deep breath and turn, eyes going wide when they lock on Geno’s.

“Hey,” Sid says, “you didn’t have to come, I’m sorry if I scared you, it really wasn’t a big deal.”

Geno steps into Sid’s space. He cradles his jaw with trembling hands, runs them down his neck and arms. Settles them on his hip then up over his chest feeling his strong heartbeat beneath his skin.

Sid catches them on the second pass over, holds them tightly between his own until they stop shaking. Geno looks up with a deep breath as Sid raises them to his lips and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m okay,” he says and Geno nods. “I promise.”


	2. Tucking sheets around them when they stir during the night.

For all the steadiness Sid exhibits during the day (always doing the right thing, always saying the right thing) he’s a terrible sleeper.

He always has been, ever since he was a little kid. He’d kick all his covers off, push all his stuffed animals to the floor. When his mother would wake him in the morning she’d find him lying on a bare mattress, pillows strewn around the room and sheets balled up at the bottom of the bed.

It only becomes a real problem when he starts to date and things get serious. When he starts sleeping over.

“You kick,” all his partners say, “in your sleep. You kicked me.”

Sid apologizes, red in the face, and promises to be more careful even though he doesn’t have any control over it. He says he’ll be more careful but of course, it happens again and again.

Slowly, but surely, all the relationships fizzle out. It hurts, but that doesn’t mean he stops trying.

Geno is loud and fun. He’s friendly. He has personality for days and the legs to match. He has a king sized bed that they fall against in a heap of tangled limbs.

Sid wakes to Geno’s hands up by his shoulders. His eyelids fly open and he stares up into Geno’s half hooded eyes.

“Sorry to wake,” Geno whispers. “You kick covers off so I fix. Is cold in here.”

“Yeah,” Sid says, “I do that sometimes. Did I kick you?”

Geno shrugs and falls back against the bed. He lays a heavy arm across Sid’s hips, pinning him in place. “Little bit. Is okay though. I just kick back.”

Sid can see the curve of his smile in the dark before he shuts his eyes and falls back asleep.


	3. Traveling long distances just to see them.

Geno’s exhausted by the time the plane lands in Halifax.

The skies are an inky blue as he waits for his Lytf out on the sidewalk in front of the terminal. He has a half wilted bouquet of flowers in one hand and a stale box of Timbits in the other, both terribly overpriced but given the later hour of his arrival, the best he can do.

The Lyft driver is quiet, thankfully. He keeps the radio volume low, Top 40 remixes playing in a loop at this time of night. Geno rests his head against the cool glass and tries to nap.

He tips well when the car finally pulls up in front of the house. It was a long drive and he’s thankful that anyone picked him up at all. The alternative would have been renting a car and for all he knows he could still be standing in line behind a businessman who demanded snow tires on their rental even though it wouldn’t snow here for another few months. Stranger things have happened.

He knocks, then knocks again. The house is dark but Sid’s bedroom faces the lake, not the road and Geno hopes that maybe he’s still up.

Geno steps back and eyes the fence that surrounds the backyard. He could hop it and throw rocks up at Sid’s window like a corny romcom, the kind he watched over and over when he was first learning English.

He’s just set the flowers and the Timbits down on the patio when the front door opens and Sid steps out. He’s in sweats and there are pillow lines on his face and Geno feels terrible and relieved all at once.

“Geno,” Sid asks, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“Happy Birthday,” Geno blurts out. He kicks the box and the flowers on his way back up the steps and curses before gathering them both into his arm. “Is still before midnight. Is still your birthday. I made it.”

“From Moscow?”

Geno nods. “So sorry I’m late. So sorry it took me so long. But I sit there alone and I think this is where I want to be. Had to come. Had to come see you. I brought you these,” he says as he holds out the flowers and the Timbits. A clump of petals falls off and floats to the ground at their feet and Geno hangs his head. “Fuck. Shit. So sorry, Sid.”

Sid reaches for him, covering Geno’s hand with his own. It crinkles against the cellophane that’s wrapped around the bouquet.

“They’re perfect,” he says. “I love them.” He tips his head back toward the open door. “Why don’t you come on in?”


	4. Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

Geno opens the front door and smells home.

Home-home, not the one that he’s made here with Sid but the one he left behind all those years ago.

He kicks his shoes off inside the door and wanders down the hall. There’s music playing in the background and TV is on, the local news mixing with the soft country that Sid likes but says he doesn’t.

Sid is at the stove, a pot of water boiling away on the front left burner and a pot of stroganoff simmering on the front right. He’s holding a spoon in each hand and has his hip cocked as he looks back and forth between the two vessels.

“You make food,” Geno asks and Sid jumps, spoon in his left hand flying against his heart over his t-shirt.

“Jesus, you scared me. How are you so quiet?”

Geno shrugs and steps behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “You make food for me,” he asks again and Sid nods, pushing back into his embrace.

“It sounded like you were having a pretty rough day when you called. It was either this or sushi and I don’t know if I really trusted myself with raw fish. Just something about it…”

“Could have just bought.”

“It wouldn’t have been the same,” Sid says and Geno tucks his face into the side of Sid’s neck and breathes in.

_No_, he thinks,_ it wouldn’t have been._


	5. Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Sid tucks his chin against his chest and frowns down at the knot in his tie. Something’s wrong. With a huff he pulls out the knot and starts over, stepping over to the floor length mirror hanging off the back of the closet door so he can see.

In the reflection he can see Geno still lounging around in bed. He’s frowning down at his phone, fingers flying over the screen. Sid’s eyes flick momentarily to the clock on the nightstand. Even backwards in the mirror he can see that Geno is already running late.

When he looks back to Geno, Geno’s looking back at him, phone still in hand and frown still on his face.

“Going to choke yourself if you keep it up,” he says and Sid looks down at the knot. It’s very tight. “Come here, I fix.”

Sid drops his hands and walks over to the bed, stepping over Geno’s boxers and t-shirt from the night before, dropped carelessly to the floor before Sid pinned him down onto the bed.

He flushes just thinking about it and Geno smirks like he can read his mind as he settles down onto the bed beside Geno’s hip.

Geno makes quick work of the tie, undoing the knot then redoing it the right way, fingers brushing against Sid’s overheated skin as he works.

“Perfect,” Geno says as he drops his hands then flops back into the pillows. “Now you perfect.”

“You know you’re going to be late,” Sid says, fiddling with his collar. “You should have been up ten minutes ago.”

Geno waves a hand and Sid catches it, linking their fingers together before leaning down for a kiss.

“I have to go,” he whispers against Geno’s lips. “Thank you for the tie.”

“Anytime,” Geno says, then tugs Sid down for another kiss.”


	6. Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Geno has lots of favorites when it comes to Sid.

His laugh, his eyes, his heart.

The funny way his walks, the crooked slant to his smile, the way he always gives more than he gets and never, ever asks for more in return.

There is, of course, his ass and thighs. The way his breath hitches when Geno first pushes in. The way Sid’s hand reaches for his own and the way their fingers looked laced together. Those are private favorites. Quiet favorites. Only his and theirs alone.

But his most favorite, the one that’s always going to be at the top of the list, is the strip of skin on the side of Sid’s neck, right below his ear and above his shoulder.

It’s always warm. It always catches the sweat of the day and the last lingering hints of cologne. It smells like him, whether at the end of a long day or fresh out of the shower. It’s a constant. Geno hugs him, from in front or behind and presses his face there, breathes in and out and in again as Sid pats at his arms or his back.

It’s where he’s safest. It’s where he’s home.


	7. Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

“Clumsy.”

“No.”

“Very, very, clumsy.”

“I hit wall.”

“The wall is always there. You talk with your hands too much, especially in such a small space.”

“Have to make point. Need-.” Geno pauses and swings his hands around. “Need big.”

“Step out of the doorway next time.”

“You are mean,” Geno says, pointing a finger at Sid. “Don’t ask if I need ice or band aid. Could have really been hurt.”

“You hit your funny bone. I think you’ll be okay.”

“Could still ask,” Geno grumbles and Sid stands from his spot at the kitchen table and reaches out for Geno’s arm.

He bends it at the elbow and lifts it up so he can see the affected area. He meets Geno’s eyes then leans in and presses his lip to the slightly discolored skin.

“Feel better,” he asks and Geno nods.

“Much better.”


	8. Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

Geno feels like he’s been standing in line at the family owned specialty foods store for years.

It would have been easier and quicker to go to the chain grocery store but Sid loves this place and when Geno volunteered to run errands this morning he had to agree to come here.

Apparently, according to Sid, they have the best maple syrup around and that’s what he needs to truly enjoy his Sunday morning pancakes. Geno will have to take his word for it. To him, all the syrup tastes the same and he’d be just as happy with the fake stuff that comes in a plastic bottle.

Not that he’d ever admit that to Sid. That would be a guaranteed way to end their relationship and Geno’s too fond of him to do that.

With a sigh he pushes the cart up another inch, finally making it to the display case that’s on the end of the register.

There are a few magazines highlighting local events. A lobster bake. A sunflower festival. Sailing lessons for kids.

He thumbs through a few pages to quell his boredom then wedges it back into the stack.

He scans over the old fashioned candies and natural lip balms before he stops at the rows of keychains.

One in particular catches his eye.

A goose. Wings outstretched and beak open. He smiles to himself as he picks it up, metal clinking together as his fingers bump against the neat row so he can slide one out.

He thinks of Sid’s honking laugh. The way his eyes crinkles when he smiles hard. How the joy of it takes over his whole body.

The line moves and Geno carefully places the keychain into his cart, then moves along with it.


	9. Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you

Sid doesn’t get soccer.

He understands the rules. Put the ball in the net. Don’t be offsides. Don’t use your hands, obviously.

It’s not his favorite, though. It’s not something he would willingly watch on his own.

Geno, on the other hand, loves it. He has a favorite team, he knows all the players, he knows all their stats. He rattles off win and loss percentages at the drop of a hat and Sid just nods along, assuming that they’re all correct because how would he know?

He’s happy Geno has something that he loves like that and he’s happy to tag along to games and viewing parties.

He goes to bars and yells at TV screens in the jersey of a player that he wouldn’t know if he passed him on the street.

Geno’s energy is infectious throughout the games. He grips Sid’s hand when the score is tied jumps up and down when his team takes the lead, presses Sid carefully to the wall the bar as they wait for their ride, kisses him long and slow, tasting like cheap beer and even cheaper nachos when they win.

“Was good game,” Geno says as he traces Sid’s bottom lip with his thumb.

Sid nods. Maybe soccer isn’t so bad.


	10. Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

Their silverware clinks against the plate.

Fork, knife, fork knife.

Geno picks up his glass as Sid sets his down. It’s leaving a wet ring on the wood table and Sid makes a mental note to pick up coasters somewhere. Maybe it would be easier to order them online. It’s not a fancy table by any means, they bought it at Ikea but he’d like to keep it looking nice for as long as possible.

Geno sighs as he takes another bite of chicken.

The clock on the wall in the kitchen behind them ticks and ticks and ticks.

Beneath the table Geno hooks his foot around Sid’s ankle.

Sid looks up and catches his eyes.

They both smile.


	11. Telling them a dumb joke just to see their smile.

“You hear about restaurant on moon? Great food, no atmosphere.”

Sid groans and rolls over in bed.

“Sid, how many apples grow on tree? All of them.”

Sid pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth, spits, rinses off the brush, then sets it back in the holder. Then he pushes past Geno and out into the bedroom.

“You want to hear a joke about paper? Never mind, it’s tear-able.”

“You called me at work to tell me that?”

“Is funny.”

“Goodbye, Geno. I’ll see you later.”

“Two goldfish in one tank.One says to other, you know how to drive this thing?”

Sid ladles more spaghetti sauce onto his pasta and takes a deep breath.

“What is brown and sticky?” He kicks his socked covered toes into Sid’s chin. “A stick.”

“G, you know just because you’re going to be a dad doesn’t mean you have to tell dad jokes, constantly. That’s not a requirement.”

Geno nods and swirls his spaghetti around his fork. “You know what they call fake noodle? An im-pasta.”

Sid stares at him and Geno pops his fork into his mouth, slurping at the stray bits of pasta that didn’t quite tangle around the fork.

Without his permission, Sid’s lips curve into a smile and Geno whoops in excitement, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the tip of Sid’s nose.

“Knew you loved,” he says, then “hey, what time does man go to dentist?”


	12. Following their family traditions that they enjoy.

The Crosby house seems to be alive with Christmas spirit. Living and breathing with it.

Geno can barely keep up.

There are kids running around with their parents chasing after, begging them to eat more than just the icing off the cookie before they run to grab another. There are aunts and uncles and grandparents that pinch at cheeks and dab at sticky faces with their thumbs.

There’s more food than anyone knows what to do with and a tree that looks too big to fit through the front door. He keeps meaning to ask Troy how exactly he got it in here but Troy has been busy carving Christmas turkey and ham nine other different types of meat.

It’s a whirlwind. It’s overwhelming. And Sid’s in the middle of it.

He thrives in this kind of environment. He’s used to it. The noise and the constant excited chatter. The kids talking about Santa and the parents secretly whispering about what Santa is going to bring. This is how he grew up.

Right now he has a kid hanging off each arm. Geno’s not sure if they’re related to him or the friend of a friends kids or what but they’re red faced from laughing and Geno’s heart warms in his chest.

“Geno,” Sid calls, “I need help. I need back up.”

Geno sets his cup of eggnog down on the table behind him. This is how Sid was raised and there’s a good chance this is how they’ll raise their own kids, with a huge party on Christmas Eve every single year.

Geno sets off across the room and presses a quick kiss to Sid’s lips. He could get used to this.


	13. Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch.

Sid’s leg fell asleep twenty minutes ago.

Geno fell asleep ten minutes before that.

Sid’s stuck here.

Geno collapsed on the couch beside him the moment he got home. He still has his shoes on his feet and his tie around his neck and Sid didn’t even need to ask him how his day was, one look up at those tired, brown eyes, and he knew.

Geno stretched out, rested his head on Sid’s thigh, and fell asleep.

Sid drags his hand across Geno’s scalp, fingers threading through his hair, back and forth, slow and steady until Geno hums and nestles even closer.

The pins and needles in Sid’s leg flare up into something close to pain but he grits his teeth and pushes through it. He’ll stay here all night if he has to. It’s worth it.


	14. Singing and dancing to their favorite song.

Sid’s just putting the last bit of silverware into the dishwasher when Geno presses a few buttons on his phone and music starts playing through the house speakers.

The kitchen is dark and warm, oven still throwing off residual heat, and when Sid looks up Geno’s standing there with his hand outstretched toward him.

“Long day, Sid,” he says, fingers curling, beckoning him to reach out and take. “Come dance.”

Sid tucks his hand into Geno’s and lets himself be pulled in against his chest. He feels like they’re close enough that he can feel Geno’s heartbeat thudding gently against his own as Geno bends his neck and hums the lyrics into Sid’s ear.


	15. Calming them down when they have a bad dream.

Sid wakes to the sound of Geno mumbling beside him.

It’s not unusual for him to talk in his sleep. Sometimes it’s goal calls from the hockey game they watched earlier and others it’s something that his mother said to him on the phone. Sometimes it’s just nonsense, about elephants and giraffes wearing top hats or fairies coming and taking all his cookies.

Those are the funny ones. The ones that almost make Sid want to reach for his phone and hit record.

Tonight is different.

Geno’s face is pinched and he has an iron grip on the pillow beneath his head. His knuckles are almost white with how hard he’s clutching it and his lips are constantly moving with a steady stream of ‘no’s’ and ‘don’ts’ and ‘stops’.

Sid touches his shoulder and says his name. Geno’s face twists into pain and his cries get louder as Sid sits up and flicks on the light on the nightstand beside the bed. In the watery, yellow light Sid can see that Geno’s sweating, his hair is slicked down and his face is red. There are tears staining his cheeks and his lips look almost bitten through and raw. It’s heartbreaking to see and Sid shakes him a little harder, hoping to wake him from whatever nightmare he’s in the middle of.

Eventually, Geno’s eyes fly open and he sits up with a heaving gasp. His body shakes with it and he looks around the room wildly, like he doesn’t know where he is or what he’s doing.

“G,” Sid says softly, pulling on his sweat soaked t-shirt, and Geno’s head swings around to face him.

All at once he crumbles. Eyes closing and chin trembling as he reaches out and wraps Sid in a bone crushing hug.

“Sid,” he sobs, then breaks off into Russian, too quick for Sid to even try to understand.

“It’s okay, it’s all right,” Sid says, over and over again, patting at Geno’s back and kissing his temple. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Geno shudders in his arms and Sid holds him back a little tighter. He holds him for as long as he needs to and then some.


	16. Having a tickle fight until you’re breathless.

“You fight dirty!” Sid yells as he tries to wiggle out of Geno’s grasp.

Geno just laughs and digs his fingers even harder into Sid’s sides making Sid double over with laughter. “I learn from you,” Geno says as Sid twists around and lunges at Geno’s stomach, the soft little pooch right below his belly button and Sid says makes him sound like the Pillsbury Doughboy when he pokes it.

Geno tries batting Sid’s hands away but Sid is persistent and tricky and he out maneuvers him pokes his index finger into the soft skin.

Immediately, Geno lets out a soft, ‘hee hee,’ and Sid collapses to the floor in a mess of giggles, too powerful for him to stand up on his own.

Sid’s laughter is ridiculous and infectious and Geno’s knees buckles beneath his weight and he falls to the floor beside him.

Sid’s trying to talk, to say something between the giggles and gasps but nothing is coming out and finally he gives up.

His eyes are bright and his chest is heaving as he looks over at Geno. There’s a moment of silence where they just stare at each other, happy and content and in love and then Geno snorts and Sid’s set off into a second laughing fit.

Geno follows close behind.


	17. Folding their clean laundry and putting it away

Sid hefts the laundry basket up onto his hip and kicks the door to the laundry room shut behind him once he steps out into the hall.

After ignoring the dirty clothes hamper for a week, this is his third load of the day and he still has one more to do.

He has no idea how the two of them accumulate this much laundry. He had no idea that they had this many articles of clothing. They have one dresser and one closet. Where are they keeping it all?

Sid plops down on the couch and drops the basket in front of him. Still warm from the dryer, Geno’s favorite old t-shirt seems even cozier than normal. Sid shakes it out, working out the wrinkles and letting the soft scent of white tea lavender fabric softener waft over him.

He brings the cotton up to his nose and takes a deep breath, reminding him of all the times he’s burrowed his head into Geno’s chest in happiness or sadness or anger, the one time that they don’t like to talk about, where Geno held him until he finally calmed down.

There’s a small tear around the collar and a hole in the left sleeve and Sid knows that one day the whole thing will unravel right off Geno’s body.

Carefully, like today might be that day, he folds it, tucking in the sleeves and folding the whole thing in half.

He runs his hand over the fabric after he drops it to his thighs, just barely warm now but still so familiar.

Sid sets the shirt down beside him on the couch with one last lingering touch and reaches into the basket to start matching up the socks.


	18. Sharing a soft smile across a crowded room.

“Can I have a glass of red wine and a whiskey sour?”

The bartender nods back to him and Sid drops a five into the tip jar. The one good thing about the annual office Christmas party is the open bar.

Sid turns to look back over the banquet hall that this work has rented out for the evening. It’s nice. Spacious enough that everyone isn’t packed on top of each other and bright enough that it doesn’t look like they’re all celebrating in a cave, both of those things seemed to be the theme of parties in the past.

A waiter passes by and Sid snags a spinach puff off the tray. It’s a little dry and could use more salt but just like the drinks it’s free and he really shouldn’t complain.

He swallows and scans the room, eyes quickly falling to Geno, right where he left him. He finishing off the last sips of his drinks. He’s in a small crowd of Sid’s coworkers, nodding along to whatever they’re saying. It’s probably lost on him. Most of the time it’s lost on Sid but Geno is a champ at grinning and bearing it.

Geno’s eyes go wide, like something someone has said has shocked him before lifting the glass to his lips and downing the last drops.

He meets Sid’s eyes over the rim of the glass and smiles, soft and sweet and Sid can feel himself blush (after all these years together) and smiles back.

“Your drinks, Sir,” the bartender says behind him and Sid nods.

“Thank you,” he says back, still smiling at Geno from across the room.


	19. Bringing them a plate of their favorite sliced fruit.

Geno slides the knife back and forth until it cuts through the rind of the watermelon.

The slice falls forward onto the cutting board and Geno cuts it into wedges and piles them onto a plate.

Outside on the deck Sid is lounging in the summer sun. They slathered on sunblock this morning but given the way Sid’s skin is slowly turning a soft shade of pink he’s due for another application.

Geno picks up the plate and steps through the open sliding glass door. He closes it with his foot then pads across the deck to Sid’s chair.

Sid stirs when he Geno sets the plate down on the small table beside him and slides his sunglasses up his face to the top of his head.

Geno laughs and presses his finger to Sid’s cheek. “You getting weird tan line. Like raccoon.”

“Shut up,” Sid mumbles as he reaches for a slice of watermelon. “Thank you for this.”

“Is no problem,” Geno says, picking up a slice of his own and watching Sid bite into his. He watches the red tip disappear between Sid’s lips, the juice dripping down his wrist and then down his arm. A few drops hit his bare chest, sliding down one rounded pec, across his nipple before dripping down along his ribs and disappearing into the towel he’s laid out beneath him.

“What’s the matter,” Sid asks, “try it, it’s good.”

Geno drops his watermelon back onto the plate and climbs over Sid.

“I don’t think this chair is going to hold us,” Sid says, slice falling out of his hand and onto the deck.

Geno shrugs. “Let’s find out,” he says, before leaning down and tasting Sid’s sweet, summer skin.


	20. Washing their back/hair in the shower

Sid spends more time rubbing at his temples than eating his dinner.

“Headache still,” Geno asks and Sid nods, a barely there movement.

Sid had a headache when he left for work this morning and apparently it’s only gotten worse.

“You take something?”

Sid nods again. “Aspirin around noon. Didn’t do anything.”

Geno hums. “Why don’t you go upstairs? I clean up, be right up after.”

Sid grunts and stands. He drops a kiss to the top of Geno’s head in thanks then drags himself up the stairs.

Geno takes his last bite then clears the table. Upstairs the shower starts.

Geno does a quick rinse of the plates and sets the pot in the sink to soak. He’ll come back and load the dishwasher after he tucks Sid into bed for the night.

In the master bath, Geno steps over Sid’s discarded clothing, a clear sign that he’s not feeling like himself. Geno strips and kicks both their clothes into a pile by the hamper. He’ll deal with that later on as well.

Sid has his back to him when he steps into the shower. He had his head bowed and his arm braces against the tile with the spray angled against the back of his neck.

Geno presses a kiss to the back of Sid’s shoulder. His skin is warm and wet and Sid gums as Geno reaches around him to grab the shampoo off the shelf.

Sid tips his head back as Geno lathers up his hair and rubs his fingertips in small, tight circles against his scalp.

“Feeling better,” Geno asks and Sid pushes his head back into Geno’s hands. “Rinse next, okay,” Geno asks, angling Sid back under the spray. He keeps his hands moving in Sid’s hair until the soap is rinsed out then shuts off the water. Geno steps out of the shower first then grabs a towel for Sid. He dries him off methodically, hair and then back, arms and legs. He wraps him up in a second, dry towel then leads him out into the bedroom. “Get into sweat, get in bed and try to sleep.” He kisses Sid’s forehead. “Feel better in morning."

“You coming to bed,” Sid whispers and Geno rakes his fingers gently through Sid’s hair. He has chores. Plates and dirty clothes in the bathroom but the way Sid’s looking up at him now…he can’t leave.

“We go to bed,” he says and helps Sid climb into bed then climbs in right behind him.


	21. Sharing your umbrella with them in the rain.

The drizzle quickly turns into a downpour.

Geno opens the door and pops open the umbrella.

“You coming,” he asks Sid and Sid shakes his head.

“There’s no way we’re both going to fit under that thing,” he shouts over the sound of the rain hitting the ground.

Geno smiles and snakes his arm around Sid’s waist, pulling him against his side.

“We just have to stand close, come on, let’s go.”


	22. Listening to them while they vent

Sid sits on the couch and watches Geno pace in front of him.

He’s been ranting for a solid twenty minutes now, making big gestures with his hands and rolling his eyes and mimicking what Sid believes is Mama Malkin’s voice.

All in Russian, Sid’s only able to follow the general thread of the story. He thinks Geno’s upset at his mother for asking, yet again, when they’re going to get married and finally giver her a grandchild.

But it’s also possible it’s something else entirely. Sid’s proud of the Russian he’s learned since he met Geno but when it’s flying at him this quickly, there’s not much he can do.

It doesn’t matter much anyways. His role here isn’t to contribute, it’s only to listen. He’s being talked at instead of talked to, it’s part of the deal.

Geno huffs and sets his hands on his hips and Sid waits a moment. They’ve had servers false tops already and he doesn’t want to interrupt if Geno’s just gearing up for round four.

“Okay,” he says, “think I’m done.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. No. Yes. Yes. Am done. Feel better now. Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” Sid assures him, “anytime. Now, do you maybe wanna watch the game with me?”

Geno nods and drops down to the couch beside him. Sid wraps an arm around his shoulders and reaches for the remote.


	23. Taking a picture together to print and hang later.

“Is because I have long arms. Can take the best pictures.”

Geno wraps one arm around Sid’s shoulders and pulls him against his side. The other is held out far in front of them with his phone in his hand. Geno ducks down and pushes and tugs Sid around until they’re both in the right position. The setting sun is right over their heads, the sky a brilliant display of reds and pinks.

“Smile,” Geno prompts and Sid rolls his eyes but does as he’s told.

Right before Geno takes the photo he turns his head and smacks a huge kiss onto the side of Sid’s cheek.


	24. Tracing your names together in the sand

Getting Sid away from the snow and to the beach feels like a small miracle. Geno feels like he should get a medal for it or a day dedicated to him. People would have it off from work. Kids would have it off from school. It’s that big of a deal.

It’s nice seeing Sid like this. Sun on his skin and sand between his toes. His kisses taste like salt and his laugh gets carried away on the breeze.

“Admit, you are having fun,” Geno says, poking at Sid’s suntanned bicep.

Sid’s leaning over the side of his chair, arm extended down toward the sand.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I mean. We could be skiing. We could be drinking hot chocolate.”

“We are drinking,” Geno says as he takes another sip from his bright pink drink, garnished with a slice of pineapple and a maraschino cherry.

“We could have spiked the hot chocolate,” Sid says. He’s still bent over and Geno pushes himself up on one knee and leans over Sid’s chair, trying to figure out what he’s doing.

In the sand Sid has written Sid + Zhenya and surrounded both their names in a heart.

“Can’t do that in snow,” Geno says softly and Sid looks up at him, squinting into the sun.

“Actually,” Sid begins and Geno silences him with a kiss.


	25. Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

“Are you almost ready? Our reservation is in a half an hour.”

“Almost. Just need shoes.”

“Uh huh.”

In Geno’s world, just need shoes is code for “I need to find my shoes and my socks and also button my shirt and straighten out my hair and also, hey, by the way, have you seen my keys?”

Sid steps out of the bathroom and is completely shocked to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, fulling dressed and pulled together, tying his shoelaces with his keys on the bed beside him.

“Hey,” Sid says, voice full of wonder as he takes him in. He’s dressed in a red button down, one that fits the long lines of his torso perfectly. “You look nice.”

“Know you like me in red, so.” Geno stands and Sid licks his lips. Geno tracks the movement of his tongue. “Ah, Sid, come on, reservation. Restaurant. Thirty minutes. Lets go.”

“I mean,” Sid says, reaching up and crossing his wrists behind Geno’s neck. “We can be a little late. I’m sure they won’t mind.” Sid sets his lips against the hinge of Geno’s jaw and Geno sighs in defeat.

“Okay, maybe is okay if we just a little late.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Sid says as he pushes Geno down onto the bed.


	26. Doing a chore for them that you know they aren’t fond of.

Sid lets out a truly pitiful groan before he pulls the sides of the garbage bag up in preparation to pull it out of the bin.

He has a deep seeded hatred for taking out the trash and he always has. It’s not that it’s a hard job. All he has to do is carry the bag from the kitchen to the bin in the garage then roll it down to the end of the driveway but he hates it. He really, really, hates it.

“Why you hate so much,” Geno asks as he steps into the kitchen. He sets his plate down in the sink and crosses his arms over his chest. “Is just garbage.”

“My parents used to make me do it when I was in trouble, you know, as punishment.”

“Hard to think you ever get in trouble.” He reaches out and pinches Sid’s cheek and Sid bats his hand away. “So cute and so sweet. I see pictures.”

“I talked back sometimes.”

Geno raises his eyebrows.

“I got upset when they told me to come in for dinner and I wanted to skate some more.”

Geno laughs. “Oh Sid.”

“I was ten, okay? I thought I was justified. Anyways, I think it just brings up bad memories. Plus it’s gross.”

“Okay,” Geno says as he squeezes Sid’s shoulders and moves him out of the way. “I will do.”

Sid steps to the side as he Geno hefts the bag out of the trash bin. “Seriously?”

“Yes. You hate, trash has to be taken out, I was good kid who didn’t talk back–.”

“Okay,” Sid says loudly and Geno grins at him. “Thank you, you’re the best.”

“Oh, I’m know,” Geno calls over his shoulder as he heads for the garage.

Sid smiles after him.


	27. Leaving a plate of food in the microwave for when they have a late shift.

Sid comes home to a quiet house.

Most of the lights are off but he follows the few that have been left on into the kitchen.

He’s willing to bet Geno headed up for bed hours ago and Sid doesn’t blame him one bit for not waiting up. To say it’s been a day, would be an understatement. It just seems like nothing has gone right between the traffic and the missing paperwork and the clients that don’t seem to grasp that he works a 9-5 and that he is not at their beck and call whenever they think they need him.

But it’s just one day and he hopes tomorrow will be better.

He pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge and as he drinks he spots the post-it stuck to the front of the microwave.

_Glad you’re home,_ is written in Geno blocky writing and Sid pops open the microwave door and pulls out the plate of leftovers.


	28. Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.

“Try this.”

Sid holds the glass out to Geno and Geno wrinkles his nose.

“What is it?”

“It’s a protein shake I made. I want to know what you think.”

“What kind?”

“Peanut butter and chocolate.” He holds the glass out a little further and Geno gives it a skeptical look then bends down and takes the straw sticking out of the shake between his lips. He takes a sip and his face immediately twists into disgust.

“Gross, Sid! Is gross! Why you feed me that?!”

“What are you talking about,” Sid says as he takes another sip. “It’s not that bad.”

He stops and holds the shake in his mouth for a moment then immediately runs over to the sink and spits it out.

“Oh my god, that’s awful. Why did I think that would be good?”

“Just drink milkshake, Sid. Milk has protein, yes?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He dumps the rest of the shake down the drain. “Do you want to go get a milkshake?”

“Yes,” Geno says, already grabbing his keys off the hook. “Have to get bad taste out of mouth.”

Sid puts his hand on Geno’s hip and leans up for a quick kiss. “That better?”

“Little bit,” Geno says with a smile, “but still want milkshake.”


	29. Tucking their hair behind their ear to help them get it out of their face.

Sid has approximately a 24 hour window before his hair goes from shaggy and should-probably-think-about-getting-a-cut to I-NEED-A-CUT-RIGHT-NOW.

In that short span of time it grows wildly out of his head, twisting and curling until he’s practically fighting to get it out of his face.

“Maybe you need clip,” Geno suggests, index finger wrapped around a curl by his temple. “Or headband. Would be cute, Sid.”

“I need a haircut. I can’t get in until the day after tomorrow.”

“Day after tomorrow?” Geno tugs on the curl. “Going to be long enough to braid by then.”

“I know,” Sid whines, sounding miserable and Geno tucks the lock of hair behind Sid’s ear. “It’s awful.”

“Don’t think is awful,” Geno says as he threads his fingers through Sid’s hair. “Think it looks good.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“Who says I’m lie. Always think you look good and this is just–.” He accidentally tugs on Sid’s hair as he tries to get his fingers out of the mess of curls and Sid hisses. “Sorry, didn’t mean–.”

“Can you do that again?”

Geno blinks at him. “You serious?”

“Please, Geno, just–.” He tilts his head back into Geno’s hand and Geno tugs. Sid lets his head fall back and expose the long line of his neck. “Fuck.”

“We should go upstairs,” Geno says quickly, “and maybe cancel hair appointment?”

“Yeah,” Sid says, pushing Geno toward the staircase, “that might be a good idea, at least for a couple of days.”


	30. Helping scratch that itch on their back they can’t reach.

Sid twists and turns, bending his upper body into impossible angles, arms bent behind him as he tries to reach his middle back.

“Can you please just….” he trails off and backs his way into Geno’s space, fingertips just barely missing the spot that’s bothering him. “I’m going crazy.”

Geno uses his nails to scratch at the spot and Sid tips his head to the side with a satisfied moan, his body turning to butter beneath Geno’s hand.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says and Geno smiles.

“Probably just have to find a tree. Like bear.”

Sid sighs and leans back against Geno’s body. “This is much better.”


	31. Pulling a chair out for them to sit down at the table.

Sid follows Geno through the restaurant and tries not to be intimidated. It’s by far the fanciest place he’s ever been and even though he’s dressed in a suit, he still feels too under dressed to be here. He’s pretty sure there’s one guy in the corner with a monocle.

The hostess stops at their table and promises to bring a wine menu for them to look at. Geno thanks her then turns to Sid.

“Look like you seen ghost?”

“This place is just…a lot.”

“Is nice.” He pulls the chair out in front of him and gestures for Sid to take a seat. Sid sits and Geno bends down to whisper in his ear. “We deserve nice.”


	32. Wrapping a blanket around them when they are sitting on the couch and watching a show

Sid jams another handful of popcorn into his mouth. A few kernels fall out of his hand and bounce off his lap and onto the floor below, just waiting for the Roomba to pick them up.

Geno shakes his head. He’s on his fifth watch through of Band of Brothers and nothing can break his focus. The house could fall down around him and as long as the TV stayed upright he wouldn’t notice.

Wordlessly, Geno grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around Sid’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple before reclining back against the couch, feet up in Sid’s lap.

Sid’s still for a moment and then, with his eyes still fixed on the screen tucks the ends of the blanket around Geno’s feet, keeping them warm.


	33. Throwing away their piles of tissues when they have a cold.

Sid looks up at the clock and checks the time.

Geno’s been asleep for nearly ten hours now, having finally found a cold medicine strong enough to knock him out. Thank god.

Geno’s been battling this cold for a week now, sneezing and coughing and being so congested he can hardly breathe. Sid aches with sympathy for him and he’s glad he’s finally found something to give him a little relief. Even if it makes him sleep so soundly Sid has to come upstairs and check on him every half an hour to make sure he’s still breathing.

Right now, Geno’s chest is rising and falling beneath the covers and Sid take the opportunity to pick up the half empty Gatorade bottles and crumpled up tissues that Geno has left strewn around the room.

He has an armful of bottles and a handful of tissues when Geno mumbles something and rolls over. Slowly, his eyes open and he takes a moment to focus on Sid.

“Was asleep,” he asks and Sid bites back a smile.

“Yeah, for awhile. Do you feel any better?”

Geno shakes his head and burrows down deeper beneath the blankets. “Come lay with me?”

“I’m cleaning up.”

“Clean up then lay down.” He pouts and Sid feels himself giving in. “Would make me feel better.”

“You play dirty when you’re sick,” Sid says and Geno does his best to smile.

“Play dirty all the time.” He reaches behind him and throws the covers back. “Come quick. Getting cold.”


	34. Mending an item of their clothing that was ripped.

Geno threads the needle on his fifth try. He lets out a small whoop of success when it finally slides through the eye of the needle and quickly ties it off so it doesn’t slip through again.

He cuts the thread with his teeth, not bothering with the scissors even though they’re only an arm’s length away. This is how his mother did it, this is how she taught him.

He picks up Sid’s sweatshirt and angles it just so beneath the light above the dining room table so he can see the ripped seam on the front pocket. Barely an inch long, it’s nothing to be worried about, yet, but he knows how Sid likes to keep his hands in his pockets and given time, the whole thing will unravel.

It’s quick work with a simple stitch and he’s just finishing off the last one when Sid bounds down the stairs.

“Have you seen my sweatshirt? I can’t find it.”

“Is right here,” Genos says, holding it out so Sid can grab it as he walks by and pull it over his head. He shoves his hand directly into the front pocket and Geno smiles.


	35. Running out in the middle of the night to get a food item they’re craving.

Geno grabs a pint of Cherry Garcia off the shelf and drops it into his basket. Then, he grabs another, just in case.

It’s after midnight and Geno left the house in such a hurry that he left his slippers on and his jacket on the hook by the doors. Thankfully, he remembered his wallet and the directions to the only 24-Hour market that stocks Ben & Jerry’s in town.

Sid had woken him desperate and craving ice cream and Geno had gotten out of bed on autopilot and hopped right into the car. Sid’s carrying their child, the least he could do is go get ice cream for him.

On his way up to the register he grabs a bottle of ginger ale and a family sized bag of Doritos, two popular cravings recently along with a bottle of Tums for the heartburn that will inevitably follow.

The cashier is an older man who takes one look at the contents of the basket and Geno’s disheveled state and nods.

“Baby on the way,” he asks and Geno nods. “I remember when my wife was pregnant with our first. He made me run out at three in the morning for sour cream, pickles, and licorice. Don’t worry though, it gets better.”

Geno thinks about Sid at home, swollen belly and dewy skin and the way he sings, off key, to the baby because he wants them to know his voice. Geno shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, “pretty good right now.”


	36. Helping brush their hair after a shower.

Geno giggles and trips over his feet. At the last second Sid grabs him around the waist and steadies him, bringing him back to his feet.

“You are so drunk,” Sid says and Geno giggles again smacks a clumsy kiss to the side of Sid’s cheek.

“I’m know.”

“How did you survive the shower? How did you not slip and die?”

“Am Russian, have best balance. Is why we always place in gymnastics.”

“All right, I don’t think that’s right, but okay. Why don’t you come to bed?”

“After you brush my hair,” Geno says, flinging his arm around in the direction of the sink and feeling around blindly before he grabs the comb. “Mama always used to comb my hair for me.”

“That’s really sweet, G.”

Geno suddenly sniffles. “Miss Mama. So far away, never get to see.”

“Oh god, okay.” He grabs the comb from Geno and takes his hand. “Let’s go sit down. I’ll brush your hair.”

Geno pushes past him and plunks down gracelessly on the floor by the foot of the bed and Sid has to climb around him and spread his legs so Geno can fit between his thighs.

“Drink too much,” he admits as Sid runs the comb through his hair for the first time. “Going to regret in morning.”

“Probably,” Sid says as he tugs on a snarl and Geno curses.

“Mama much more gentle.”

“Well next time she’s in town I’ll ask her how to do it. I’ll tell her I need to take care of her drunk son.”

Geno snorts and rests his head against Sid’s thigh.

Sid keeps gently combing until Geno falls asleep.


	37. Making sure to be quiet while they’re taking a nap.

Sid closes the door very gently behind him.

He takes off his shoes and steps lightly down the hall. Geno’s asleep on the couch, spread out on his back with the blanket Sid draped over him before he can out to the store falling halfway onto the floor.

Sid tiptoes into the living room, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboard that really should be fixed but Geno says gives the house character, and picks the blanket up and tucks it around his shoulders.

Geno’s nose scrunches up and Sid freezes, terrified that he’s woken him, but then his features even out and Sid breathes again.


	38. Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt.

“Are you really cold,” Sid asks, “really, honestly?”

Geno spends a lot of his time pulling Sid’s leg. He likes to pretend fifty degree weather is freezing just to get a rise out of him.

Right now, it’s dipped into the low thirties and Sid could see how this could be bothering him.

Geno nods and blows a breath into his cupped hands and Sid reaches out and pulls him close.

“All right, come here.” He lifts up his shirt and shoves Geno’s hands underneath the fabric, flinching slightly when they touch his skin. “Is that better?”

“Yes. You let me feel you up in public,” Geno asks, fingers creeping up and flicking over Sid’s nipple. Sid laughs and squirms away.

“No. I’m letting you warm your hands. Skin on skin contact is the quickest way to warm someone up.”

“Think whole body is cold,” Geno tells him, “you know how to help with that?”

Sid smiles as Geno splays his hands across Sid’s back.

“I think maybe I have a few ideas.”


	39. Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favorite.

Sid licks the last of the cheesecake off his fork like a man on a mission and all Geno can do is sit back and watch.

His pink tongue curls around the tines and pokes out of the side of his mouth as he scrapes the fork across the plate, trying to get every last bit of it that he can.

“Want mine,” Geno offers, already pushing the plate across the table before Sid can answer.

“Are you sure,” Sid asks, already cutting into the slice before Geno answers. He shuts his eyes and moans and Geno shifts in his chair.

Yes, he’s definitely sure.


	40. Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh.

“I’m going to put you both in time out.”

Geno shares a conspiratorial look at Ben who covers his mouth to hide his giggle.

“Don’t know what we did wrong,” Geno says innocently Sid rolls his eyes as he starts to unpack the groceries.

“Uh huh. I gave you a list to take with you to the store and you both ignored it.”

“Is not fair to blame Ben. He is only five.”

“He’s a very smart boy. I’m pretty sure he knew that we didn’t need seven cartons of ice cream, all in his favorite flavor too, isn’t that funny?”

“It was Papa’s fault,” Ben says and Geno gasps and picks him up.

“He rats me out. My own son.”

“I blame both of you,” Sid says as he begins to jam the ice cream into the freezer. There’s no way it all fits. “How am I supposed to make dinner tonight when–.”

The words die in his throat when he turns around. Ben has his fingers hooked in the corner of his mouth pulling one side up and the other down with his eyes crossed.

Geno has his mouth pulled down into an exaggerated frown, eyes closed and eyebrows raised.

Sid wants to be mad, or at least continue on the rouse of being mad but he can’t.

He huffs a laugh and that’s all he needs to do because their faces clear and Geno lowers Ben to the floor who immediately runs over and throws his arms around Sid’s legs as Geno leans over him and pecks Sid on the lips.

“Can’t stay mad,” Geno says and Sid rolls his eyes as he ruffles Ben’s hair and leans in for another kiss.


	41. Giving them space when they express wanting to have some time alone.

“I think I’m going to take a walk.”

Geno cranes his neck and looks over the back of the couch. Sid already has his shoes and jacket on.

“Want me to come?”

Sid looks down and kicks at the floor with the toe of his sneaker. “I thought maybe I’d go alone. You know, clear my head a little bit.”

“Clear head? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sid says, stepping forward and pulling his hands out of the pockets of his jacket so he can lean against the couch. “I’m okay. I just need some quiet sometimes. Decompress.”

Geno nods slowly. He didn’t know there was anything Sid was _compressed _about. “You need to talk about something–.”

“No, no talking. That’s actually the opposite of what I want. Everything’s okay, everything’s fine. I just…like to be alone sometimes. Do you know what I mean?”

Geno does understand that. There are times when the best thing Sid can do for him is to leave him alone for a little while. Let him figure out some stuff on his own.

“You going to be warm enough in just a jacket,” Geno asks and Sid smiles.

“I’ll grab a hat if it’ll make you feel better.”


	42. Holding their hand while walking, even if there isn’t a crowd.

The waterfront is almost empty this time of night. The lights of the city reflect off the water, as still as glass, and bounce back at them, illuminating their way.

It’s nice out for early Spring. In the coming weeks it’ll get warmer and warmer and soon it’ll be the dead of summer, too sticky and humid to do anything like this, even after the sun has gone down.

They’ve hit the sweet spot of the season and after a good meal at their favorite downtown restaurant a leisurely walk is exactly what they need.

Sid’s hands swing at his side as they walk, and once, twice, his right bumps against Geno’s left until Geno takes the hint and laces his fingers through Sid’s.

Sid looks over at him, moonlight in his hair and and the bright lights of the city in his eyes and smiles.

Geno squeezes his hand and smiles back.


	43. Holding shopping bags that are too heavy for them.

“I can grab those, G, really. It’s just some apples.”

“Apples are heavy.” He picks up the bag along with the four other totes of groceries that Sid has filled. “All things heavy for you right now. Go inside. Put feet up.”

“I’m barely pregnant. I can handle a bag of groceries.”

“Maybe, yes, but not have to. Is why I’m here.”

“Are you going to treat me like this the whole time? Like I’m going to fall apart?”

Geno stops and hums, bags hanging off his arms. “I think so, yes.”

Sid sighs and shakes his head. “Fine. Let me get the door for you.”


	44. Standing between them and a busy road.

“Why you do this?”

“Do what?”

“You always have to stand there,” Geno says, gesturing with both hands to the edge of the sidewalk that’s closest to the road. “You always walk there, always. Ever since we first date. Sometimes, I try to sneak around and get there but you never let me. Why not?”

“Oh.” Sid looks down at his feet then over at the road, like he’s just now realizing what he’s been doing. “I don’t know. I guess when I was little and I’d go somewhere with my parents one of them would always be on the outside and I’d be on the inside. That’s just how it was.”

“Doesn’t explain why you are on outside.”

“They did it to protect me. I guess maybe I’m doing the same to you.”

“By treating me like child?”

“By treating you like someone I love. I want to keep you safe. Even if it’s stupid, I like knowing you’re further away from any kind of danger. Sorry, I can stop.”

He starts to step around Geno but Geno puts his hand out and holds him firmly in place. “You want to protect me?”

“Of course, always.”

Geno nods and loops his arm through Sid’s. “Then you stay there. Protect me.”


	45. Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb.

All eyes are on them at the front of the church. It’s warm and Sid’s six year old cousin keeps tapping his foot as he holds the pillow that he carried the rings down on. He’s going to have a meltdown at any moment now, Geno can feel it.

He can also feel a bead of sweat dripping down the middle of his back beneath his cotton shirt and in his peripheral vision he can see his mother dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. She had kissed both their cheeks this morning then held Geno’s face in her hands, looked him in the eyes, and told him how happy she was for them.

Behind Sid, Taylor is dressed in a suit, playing up the best man duties the best she can and Sid’s childhood friends have fallen into line behind her.

Distantly he can hear the pastor saying all the right words, the ones Geno has heard a million times before at all their friends weddings. They all blend together after a while. He can’t keep track. He knows he’s waiting for the I Do bit and the you may now kiss you husband, part but besides that, it’s white noise.

It’s all a bit fuzzy, to be honest.

The only thing he’s truly focusing on is Sid’s thumb moving back and forth across the back of his hand. It’s grounding and lovely and he wants this, right here, that little movement, for the rest of his life.

“Evgeni,” the pastor says and Geno looks up, “do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and health, in richer or poorer for as long as you both shall live?”

Geno nods. “I do.”


	46. Giving them a back massage when they flop on the couch or bed.

Geno drops face first onto the bed, springing up a little when the mattress absorbs his weight.

“Kill me,” he says and Sid laughs. He’s in the closet, hanging up the laundry and looking infuriatingly good after a long day of babysitting. “What is your deal? What’s your trick? How you seem so together?”

“I have a younger sister. I used to watch her all the time. It’s built up my babysitting tolerance. It takes a lot for a kid to wear me down.”

“I don’t have that. I was the baby. My poor brother,” he says absently and Sid laughs.

“You probably put him through hell.”

“My back hurts.” His whole body hurts. He pillows his head on his arms and sighs. “I think I need a massage.”

A moment later he feels the bed dip as Sid climbs up and straddles his lower back. He puts his hands on Geno’s shoulders and presses down with the heels of his palm. Geno can already feel the stress melting away.

“Best hands,” Geno says. “Keep going.”

“Why don’t you take your shirt off,” Sid suggests, “so it’ll be easier for me to work.”

Geno springs up and whips his shirt off, tossing it across the room.

“Is better,” he asks and Sid hums before dipping down and dropping a kiss to the top of Geno’s spine.

“Much better.”


	47. Staying up half the night to finish a game with them

“You know, I’ve never played Monopoly to the end. I didn’t even know there was an end.”

Geno gives him a sideways look then rolls the die. They’ve been playing for four hours now and Geno’s not quitting until he finally defeats Sid in this stupid game.

“I mean, do you just play until the money runs out?”

“You wish,” Geno grumbles. “Cheat.”

“I did not cheat. I told you. The money was stuck together. It’s paper. It happens.”

“Uh huh,” Geno grunts. He moves the thimble his six spaces then pushes the die to Sid. “Your turn.”


	48. Getting them a coffee just the way they like it.

Sid moans around his first sip of coffee and Geno hides his smile behind the lid of his tea.

“God, that’s good,” Sid says. “You’re the only one who gets it the way I like it.”

“Because you too embarrassed to say you like lots of cream and sugar. Is okay if you like coffee with barely any coffee.” He pokes at Sid’s cheek. “Is cute you have sweet tooth.”

The barista always looks at me funny when I say heavy on cream and sugar. Like I’m violating some sacred coffee vow or something. I don’t like.”

“You lucky you have boyfriend who don’t care what barista thinks.”

Sid takes another sip and snakes his arm around Geno’s waist. “I’m very lucky.”


	49. Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

Geno taps his toothbrush on the edge of the sink so shake off the excess water then drops it into the holder. He wipes the corners of his mouth on the towel hanging over the bar then turns toward the bedroom.

He doesn’t make very far because Sid is there, wrapping his arms around Geno’s waist and burying his face into Geno’s chest.

Sid squeezes and squeezes until Geno wraps his arms around Sid’s shoulders and holds him tight.

“Everything okay,” Geno asks, struggling to breathe as Sid adjusts his grip. “Something happen?”

“No,” Sid says, face still squished against Geno’s chest. “I just wanted a hug.”

“Oh,” Geno says, then props his chin on the top of Sid’s head and settles in. He’ll be here for Sid to hug for as long as he needs him to.


	50. Buying them a special treat when you go out shopping.

“You got your twenty bucks,” Sid asks and Geno pulls the bill out of his pocket to show it to him. “Great. You know the rules?”

Geno nods and repockets the twenty. They’ve been playing this game for years now. They each get twenty dollars and twenty minutes to search the entire flea market for a gift for each other. It’s stupid and pointless and it’s their favorite activity.

“I’m going to get you something good,” Sid says. “Better than those creepy, Russian nesting doll….things I got you a few months ago.”

“I like those,” Geno tells him and Sid shudders.

“They’re weird. I feel like their eyes follow me wherever I go.”

“They do,” Geno says with a nods and and Sid rolls his eyes.

“I’m getting you something better, I promise.” He leans up and gives Geno a kiss before he turns and heads off into one of the aisles.

Geno winds his way slowly through the booths. There are a couple things that catch his eye but nothing that requires a second look. He has to get Sid something great. It’s what he deserves.

Halfway through their allotted time he stumbles upon a table filled with jewelry. Bracelets and necklaces and rings.

“See something you like,” an older woman with grey hair in a long braid asks. “These are all antiques. Sterling silver.”

“How antique?”

She shrugs. “Some of them are prewar. Do you have one you’d like to see?”

Geno points to a simple band in the front row. It’s a little tarnished but it’s thick enough to hold an engraving and when she takes it out of the box and drops it in his hand it looks to be about Sid’s size.

“So,” she asks, “What do you think?”

Geno cradles it in his palm, feeling the weight of the metal and the weight behind the question he’ll have to ask Sid.

“Think I’ll take it.”

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [ here.](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/)


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